Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You
by IndigoNowhereGirl
Summary: It's 1958 and Edie Harling has just moved to Liverpool. During her first day at school she meets Paul McCartney and they become close. But what happens when she meets John Lennon? Not ATU. I do not own the Beatles.
1. Chapter 1

Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You

Chapter 1

The morning was bitterly cold. A fog hung over the city's streets as I picked my way across the frozen snow. Today was to be my first at school in Liverpool and to be honest I wasn't really looking forward to it. I started to hum a tuneless ditty in a futile attempt to distract myself from the churning feeling of dread in my stomach.  
>It wasn't a long walk from my house to school, only about 10 minutes or so and as I buried my face further into my scarf I was feeling very grateful for that at least.<p>

I soon got close enough to the school for my short sighted eyes to focus on it. Before me was a tall, imposing Victorian building. Built of crumbling red brick, the school had grey iron railings all around. A sign attached to the open gate read:  
>"Woolton Academy School".<p>

"Hello?" I rang the bell on the receptionists desk in front of me. "Hello?" I called out a little less timidly than before.  
>I stood awkwardly in front of the desk for a few minutes before a secretary appeared. She looked as though she was in her early 20s, she wore a black pencil skirt and a lilac blouse. Her lips were coloured with red lipstick and her hair was a light blonde.<br>"Are you Edie Harling?" she asked sweetly.  
>"Y-yes," I stammered, taken aback by how suddenly she had appeared.<br>"Well you were supposed to be here nearly 15 minutes ago. You'd think you'd turn up on time on your first day at least." She had lost the harsh edge to her voice. Now she sounded slightly worried for me and a northern tone hung in the background of her voice.  
>"Mr Hardgrave is waiting for you in his office. Follow me."<br>I shadowed the receptionist through the staff part of the school. Eventually she knocked on a wooden door displaying a plaque which read "Head teacher".  
>"Enter." came the reply from inside the office.<br>"Miss Harling to see you, sir." said the receptionist, peeking round the door.

I found my self sat in a wooden chair on the opposite side of the the head masters desk. Thinking it worrying that I'd been here less than 5 minutes and was already in the headmaster's office.  
>"Well Miss Harling, first of all welcome to Woolton Academy School," Mr Hardgrave had a posh accent and had a very strict demeanour. He wore a grey suit with a grey shirt that may once have been white and a grey tie that looked as though it had originally been black. He looked as though he was made up entirely of angles and elbows and wore a sharp expression upon his face. As he ranted on with warnings against swearing and fighting and talking in lessons and defacing school property and blaspheming and failure to return homework and other such trivial rules and their accompanying punishments, I gained the impression that Mr Hardgrave was not the kind of man that I would like to cross.<p>

After my official warning against every wrong doing that could possibly be thought of, I was escorted by Mr Hardgrave's secretary to my form room. Her name was Olivia; I found out that she was 18 years old, just 3 years older than me, and that this was her first job out of school. As we arrived outside my classroom she nodded at me by way of wishing me good luck.

I followed Emma Briggs into my first lesson of the day, double English. Emma was a haughty, popular girl that my form tutor had told me to follow round because she was in all of my classes. I had no intention of making friends with her though, this was backed up when she told me in no uncertain terms that she would ruin any reputation I had entirely if I so much as tried to sit with her at lunch. Therefore it came as no surprise to me that at lunchtime, I found my self sat at the end of a long table by myself in the canteen. At the opposite end of the table was a small group if giggly first years that I found mildly irritating.

In the afternoon I had Physics and Maths. Both were dismally dull subjects and by far my least favourite. In Physics I had ended up sat next to a puny, pale boy that looked as though his hair was yet to encounter some shampoo and his skin had never seen the light of day. He was very rude and seemed to take delight in pointing out every answer that I managed to get wrong.

Despite it being an equally dull subject, Maths was so much better. In this class the teacher actually decided to assign seats to people so I didn't end up sat on my own again.  
>"Ain't seen you 'round before," stated the boy that I had been sat next to at the back of the classroom.<br>"No, I'm new. It's my first day," I said.  
>"Well, I'm Paul. Paul McCartney,"<br>"Edie Harling," I replied.  
>"Your from down south then," he stated, obviously picking up on my accent.<br>"Yeah," I replied, "I moved up from Lincolnshire over Christmas,"  
>"Lincolnshire," Paul repeated to himself as if trying to remember where abouts in the country it was. After a few seconds he seemed to have given up. "So how come you moved up here then?" he asked me.<br>"Dads job," I answered. Paul nodded, encouraging me to go on, "He's a train driver, got transferred up here because they got rid of the route he used to drive."  
>"Ah, I see," said Paul, "Where d'ya live now then?"<br>"Forthlin Road,"  
>"Snap!" he said, "So do I. I live at number 20. What number are you at?"<br>"23," I replied.  
>"Well, your living right opposite my house then. I guess I'll walk home with you, unless of course you don't want me to?"<br>"No, I'd like that," I said. Thankful that I'd managed to find one person that liked me in this god-forsaken school.

At the end of the day I walked my way back home over the frozen snow. Only this time it didn't seem quite as cold and I didn't have an anxious feeling in my stomach. Instead I was laughing with Paul as he told stupid jokes and I slipped and slid around on the ice. Too soon we had reached our houses and were forced to go our own separate ways.  
>"I'll knock for you in the morning," called Paul as he shuffled over the icy road.<br>"See you then," I called back as I retreated into the warmth of my house.

"Good day at school, dear?" called my mother from the kitchen as I entered the house through the side door.  
>"Not particularly," I replied, dumping my bag in the hall. "Surely it wasn't all that bad?"<br>"Mum," I sighed, "I had 2 conversations all day. And one of them was with the headmaster's secretary,"  
>I sloped of to my bedroom to start on my homework.<p>

It was comforting that despite the unfamiliar setting home life went on as usual. Mum was cooking dinner and the house was sparklingly clean. My younger brother Matthew was busy bashing tin soldiers into the legs of the kitchen chairs by way of playing. Later on my father returned from the train station, tired but as usual full of tales of peculiar passengers and the troubles they had caused. Only this time when imitating them he managed to accurately impersonate their Liverpool accents making the stories seem somehow funnier than they would have been otherwise.

•••

At 8 o'clock the next day, as promised, Paul rang the door bell. I was in the bathroom applying makeup so the door was answered by my mum.  
>After 5 minutes a ran down the stairs in my navy blue uniform to see Paul seated awkwardly on the edge of the sofa in the living room. As he saw me he sprang up.<br>"Ready to go then?" he asked.  
>"I guess so," I replied grabbing my satchel and slinging it over one shoulder. "Bye Mum!" I shouted back into the house as I closed the door behind us.<p>

"She gave me a right questioning, your mum did," Paul exclaimed as soon as we'd left the house, "'parently, you didn't mention me at all!" he gave me a mock wounded expression, "Am I a big secret then?"  
>"Oops!" I said, "I'm sorry... Of course not..." I trailed off and Paul laughed at the incoherentness of my reply. I blushed and in an effort to seem more eloquent than awkward, "You're only a little secret, Paul"<br>This time he laughed with me, not at me.

•••

That evening on the way home from school Paul and I talked again. I noticed that once Paul had found out all he wanted to know about me (what exactly was the town I'd lived in (Stamford), had I had any boyfriends (none), what was my favourite colour (blue)) he talked an awful lot about music. In particular rock and roll.  
>"I'm in a band," he announced, "We're called The Quarrymen,"<br>"Good name for a skiffle group," I said, "What do you play?"  
>"Guitar," Paul replied shortly, "And I sing as well, but it's John's band really,"<br>"Oh right," I said not particularly interested in the politics going on within their skiffle group.  
>We walked in silence for a minute or so, lost in our own thoughts until we reached our houses.<br>"See you in the morning then"  
>I said.<br>"Bye," replied Paul, "Do you want to tell your mum about me this time so she doesn't give me another royal questioning tomorrow?"  
>"We'll see," I said vanishing into my house.<p>

•••

The rest of the month went on in pretty much the same way. In the week I went to and from school with Paul through the frost, and over those next weeks he seemed to become my one of my best friends. In the evenings I did homework and helped my mother cook dinner. At the weekends I went down to Stamford on the train to visit my old friends, but it seemed that we had less and less to talk about as the weeks went by. On my visits all I seemed to talk about was Paul and how great my new life was in Liverpool which, in retrospect, I think must have alienated a few of my friends.  
>At school I'd managed to make a few new friends, most of which were already friends of Paul's.<p>

•••

One Friday at the beginning of February Paul knocked on my door as usual at 8 o'clock.  
>"Morning McCartney," I greeted him as I left the house, "Bye Mum!" I yelled back into the house as I closed the door. When we'd reached the end of the street Paul grinned at me.<br>"I don't particularly feel like school today," he announced.  
>"Me neither to be honest," I said, "Never mind though, eh?"<br>"I think we'd both have much more fun if we simply didn't go,"  
>He smirked, turned around on the path and started walking in the opposite direction to school. I followed him, unable to argue with a day off school.<br>After a half hour of walking we found ourselves by the docks with a whole day to kill. We leant on the railings and their white paint pealed off onto our coats as we looked out across the river.  
>"Nice isn't it," I observed.<br>"If you like this kind of thing, I guess," said Paul, "Bloody freezing though,"  
>I couldn't disagree with him on that one, "You're the one who decided to skive off school," I laughed.<br>"You're the one who followed me," he retorted.  
>We both laughed at ourselves before looking across the docks in the kind of silence that isn't awkward, it was just a break in the conversation.<br>"Edie,"  
>"Yes?"<br>"Your lips are going blue..."  
>"Hmm," I replied as I saw Paul's face draw closer to mine and I closed my eyes, waiting for the kiss. But it never came. Instead we were interrupted by a swishing and a squawk as a fat seagull swooped by and grabbed Paul's hat off the top of his head.<p>

"Crap," he exclaimed as the bird swooped out over the Mersey and, as if suddenly realising it wasn't food, dropped Paul's hat into the cold, grey water where it floated for a moment before being sucked under into the current. "My dad's gonna kill me," he muttered, "That hat was new last week."  
>He looked into my eyes, "Now how about that kiss..." <p>


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Paul and I stood staring out over the docks for what couldn't have been more than a few minutes. It seemed like hours. Eventually we both turned to face each other.

"So," he said grinning at me, "What shall we do now?"

"Not a clue," I said shivering slightly, "But can we please go somewhere inside? I'm bloody freezing,"

"Sure thing, babe," Paul said in the worst American accent I had ever heard. At this I burst into a silent fit of giggles.

"Paul, I'm sorry," I spluttered, "But if you try to call me babe again I might have to knock your teeth out. Especially if you say it in that appalling accent,"

"What accent, babe?" he asked in the same voice as before, ducking as I made like I was going to deck him.

We collapsed in giggles. It wasn't that funny but the cold and the kiss and the freedom of having skipped school made the situation about a million times more hilarious.

"So inside you say," Paul said as we calmed down.

"Yeah I..." I started to reply before being rudely interrupted.

"Hey!" yelled a policeman in a starched uniform and shiny helmet, "Shouldn't you two be in school?" I could tell from the tone of his voice that this wasn't a question that he wanted answering.

"We're awful sorry mister!" Paul shouted back before whispering in my ear, "Let's go."

He grabbed hold of my hand and we ran through the streets of Liverpool. Housewives and pensioners shook their heads at us as we barged past with the policeman sprinting after us. After running for a few minutes we rounded a corner and slipped down an alleyway. In true style the cop ran straight past.

We stood, leaning against the walls of the two buildings and panting.

"God, I can't remember the last time I ran that fast,"

"You can't skive very often then," Paul remarked.

"I never skip school Paul McCartney," I said, "You bring out the worst in me,"

He shrugged and we started to walk away from the docks and the shops and found ourselves in an unfamiliar suburb.

As Paul and I sat in a little café looking out into the street, I thought about how much my life had changed. Less than 2 months ago I had lived over 100 miles away from here. I'd had friends; tonnes of them and been obscenely popular.  
>Now, I was invisible, a nobody, known generally to those within my form class as "the new girl". There were less than 15 people in Liverpool that I could perhaps call friends and 3 of them lived in my house.<br>And I guess I liked it better now. I wasn't being constantly scrutinised by people for how I dressed or what I said.  
>And I had Paul. Well, I thought I did. At that moment I wasn't quite sure what exactly he was to me. Best-friend? Boyfriend? Neither quite sounded right but, to be honest, I wouldn't have minded either way.<p>

Outside, it was raining. Hard. People huddled under pointy black umbrellas and shuffled around inside their rain coats, looking like oversized black crows. Looking out though the window Liverpool looked as though it were in black and white. The grey people against grey buildings against the grey sky's. Inside the café, my surroundings shone in glorious technicolor: the paintings on the walls, the blue and white tiled floor, the red carpeted seats. The warmth and moisture of the room fogged up the cold glass of the café's windows, giving the illusion that the outside world was shrouded in a mist thick enough to stand a spoon up in.  
>Paul said something, drawing me out of my daydream and back into the real world.<br>"Hmm, what did you say?"  
>"I said," repeated Paul, "You should come to our band practice tonight?" he seemed uncertain, turning the statement into a question by the intonation of his voice. "That is, if you're not bored of me by then, like."<br>"Yes, I'd like to come. It'd be nice to see you play. And maybe I'll meet this mysterious John Lennon that you talk so much about." I joked.  
>Paul rolled his eyes at me and took a sip of his tea. "Well, shall we go round after four then?" he asked me.<br>"Alright, but can I go home first? I'd like to change."  
>"Sounds like a plan then," he replied, winking.<p>

After returning to Forthlin Road change and dump our school bags at home, Paul and I walked over to John's Aunt's house together. Despite it still being very cold outside it had at least stopped raining (for the meantime) so we decided to take advantage of the gap in the downpour to get as close to our destination as possible. It didn't work. John's house was over half an hour's walk from Paul's and after we'd been walking for less than 10 minutes, the dismal weather resumed itself and Paul resumed bemoaning the loss of his hat.

After another 20 minutes we were stood on the front step of a very normal house and Paul knocked on the door impatiently. Out of habit I looked down at myself to check my appearance, there had really been no point in me getting changed. My felt coat was soaked through, I could feel the fabric of my blouse stuck to my torso and my purple skirt now hung like a wet dish cloth. I shivered and Paul put his arm around me. We stood there for a few seconds before Paul rapped on the door again.

"I know you're in there Lennon!" he yelled, "Open the blo-"

At that moment a tall boy with brown curly hair opened the door and smirked; first at Paul, then at me, then back at Paul again. "Now there's no need for language, Macca," he interrupted in his scouse accent, looking mildly amused. I guess we must had looked a right mess stood on his doorstep, soaked to the bone. The boy (who I assumed to be John) vanished back into the house and Paul and I followed him. I took off my shoes, coat and woollen tights as I entered the house and left them on the radiator in the hall so they wouldn't be completely soaking when I had to walk back home.

I joined the boys in John's room which I found my following the noise of all 3 of them talking over the top of each other. I walked into the doorway and they all stopped talking instantly. _Always nice to know when you're being talked about,_ I thought, raising my eyebrows slightly at them.

"Alright?" said one of them, "I'm John,"

"My name's Edie," I replied, "Edie Harling,"

"And I'm George Harrison," added the last band member.

"How do you do?" I asked and instantly wished I hadn't.

"I'm doing very well, thank you," said John in an exaggerated version of my accent. He sounded like the queen. I blushed. "Posh bird you got yourself there, Paulie," he said.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Sorry I've been so long updating. It's been a bit of a busy last week at school. But I'm on christmas break now so I should be able to update more often.**

**Thank You to everyone who reviewed the last chapter I did appreciate it!**

**Please leave a review I love reading them!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Apologies in advance for this chapter, it's going to be a bit of a filler. I'll still try to make it as enjoyable as possible for you though. But on the bright side it's going to be a shorter one. Don't worry I will try to update again soon.**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 3<span>

I blushed. Paul blushed. We both stared down at the floor awkwardly for a few moments before looking up and pretending like we hadn't heard Johns comment.  
>As I looked up John caught my eye and winked. I felt myself go bright red. I noticed that John was in all aspects the leader of the group. He was at least two years older than Paul and I; and very good-looking.<br>As they tuned their guitars and squabbled over which song they were going to play first, I glanced around the room. The walls were painted a whitish-grey colour and taped to them were several posters: some of rock and roll stars like Elvis and some of actresses like Brigitte Bardot. The room was small and poky; the three boys and their guitars took up all the space and so I found myself perched, cross legged on the end of John's unmade bed.  
>Eventually they decided on "Peggy Sue" by Buddy Holly which was one of my favourite songs despite it being a few years old by then.<br>As I watched John, Paul and George play through their songs my clothes started to dry all crinkled. I assumed that the water from the seat of my skirt was slowly being absorbed by the corner of John's mattress. My ash blonde hair started to dry as well; I ran my fingers through it, trying in vain to stop it from drying into little rats tails.

After a few more songs they decided to take a break and we all went down to the kitchen to get ourselves something to drink. It had been apparent to me for a while that there was nobody in the house other than us. We took full advantage of this freedom by playing the wireless in the living room so loudly that we could hear Radio Luxembourg clearly while we sat on the kitchen work-tops and John handed us each a bottle of beer.  
>"So who's your favourite, Edie?" said George, obviously trying to make conversation.<br>"My favourite what?" I asked, confused.  
>"Rock and roll star of course,"<br>"Oh, Well Elvis,"  
>"All girls like Elvis," said John, scornfully, "I suppose you're in love with him."<br>"I suppose you're in love with him," I retorted, "Don't you have a poster of him on your wall?"  
>He paused for a second.<br>"Of course I love him. He's so dreamy!" John said in a high pitched voice, "My life won't be complete until I've _married_ him!" The accuracy of his impersonation of Elvis fan-girls made me laugh and choke on the sip of beer I had just taken.  
>"Steady on," said Paul who was sat next to me, as I spluttered and he whacked me on the back.<br>"Ouch," I frowned at him, "What was that for? It really hurt,"  
>"Sorry, babe," he said and I raised my eyebrows at him before he wrapped his arm around me and I rested my head on his shoulder.<p>

On the opposite side of the kitchen I could see George and John exchange glances and pull kissing faces at each other. It was quite funny, but on the other hand really embarrassing!

"Who else do you like then, Edie?" George asked after a minute or so.

"Other than Elvis and Paulie," added John.

"Um," I said, "Chuck Berry, Buddy Holly, Fats Domino. Pretty much any music I can get my hands on."

"So, a girl who likes music, eh?" said John, more to himself than anybody else in the room.

"Didn't know you were really into rock and roll, Edie?"

"There's a lot you don't know about me Paul McCartney," I teased, laughing as I took another sip from the brown bottle in my hand.

"Well then," he said as he lifted up my chin and kissed me on the lips. I hadn't been expecting that. I know it's a cliché but my heart kind of skipped a beat.

Paul pulled away and I became slowly aware that there were 2 other people in the room. As I looked up across the room I saw George wink at us both and John mouth something at Paul. I blushed, I noticed that going red seemed to be a theme to this evening.

"Back to practice then," announced John, knocking back the last of his beer in one gulp and walking back up to his room.

We three followed him back upstairs to his room.

After they had been practising on and off for less than an hour I heard the door slam downstairs. A voice shouted up the stairs.

"John," it was a sharp, woman's voice, "You'll have to stop that racket, I want to listen to the wireless,"

John rolled his eyes at us and gave us a look that suggested that this was the last thing he wanted to do, "Yeah, o'course, Mimi" he yelled through the closed door before turning back to us, "As you were," he nodded.

Then he played a song called Maggie Mae before putting down his guitar and sitting down next to me on his bed.

"Let's go out," he addressed to no-one in particular. It wasn't asked as a question, he obviously expected us to say yes.

Paul looked over at me and I nodded back, "Alright," he said.

"I've gotta go home," said George, "For me tea,"

As we made our way downstairs I heard some god-awful opera music crackling through the house. When we reached the landing Mimi emerged from the front room.

"Hello John," she said curtly, unlike John the scouse aspect of her voice was a faint whisper and she sounded quite posh. She nodded, "Paul, George," Mimi turned to me and a pained expression came over her face as she took in my bedraggled appearance.

"Who are you dear?" she asked me, quite patronisingly.

"My name's Edie Harling," I replied, taking care to pronounce each syllable properly.

Mimi's expression softened, "Well, I'm Mimi. John's Aunt." she replied, "I take it you're just leaving?"

"Yes, Mimi," interrupted John, "Bye!" he shouted as he swung the door closed behind us.

"She loved you Edie," said John once we'd left the garden gate, "Probably hopes you'll be a good influence on me. Bye George,"

"See ye soon," he replied walking in the opposite direction.

"More like she approves of her accent," scoffed Paul.

"Do you mind both of you?" I said, "Talking about me as if I'm not here!"

"Sorry, your majesty," said John as he stooped into a low bow and I swung my fist at him half-heartedly, "Temper temper!" he said and ran a few paces down the street.

I turned to Paul, "Where are we going, Paulie?"

"Dunno," he replied, taking my hand in his, "John where are we going?"

"To the park,"

"To the park," Paul repeated to me.

"How far is it?" I asked.

"'bout half an hour or so," Paul said, "Is that alright?"

"So long as it doesn't rain again," I said and Paul laughed.

Just before ten that night Paul and I arrived, hand in hand back on Forthlin Road. The clouds of earlier in the day had vanished exposing the dark blue of the night sky and tiny white stars. We stood in the street in a pool of yellow lamplight. I looked across at Paul who paused then turned to face me, grabbing both of my hands. I became suddenly aware of how close we were stood.

"Paulie?"

"Yes?"

I stood on tiptoe and kissed him on the cheek.

"Night, Edie," he said, letting go of my hands.

"Good night, Paul," I said, before we turned and walked into our own houses.

As I lay in bed that night I thought back over the day. And that morning felt like a long time ago.

* * *

><p><strong>So what do you think? Please leave a review I would really appreciate it.<strong>

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapters especially _vickytmandy _who is probably too nice about my writing.**

**On a side note I watched Nowhere Boy yesterday. How good is that film? Also I have a Beatles tumblr; if you want to follow it it's .com :)**


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

The next day I woke up early to the sound of the front door banging as my father left for work. After half an hour of trying to get back to sleep I decided to get out of bed.

I walked downstairs and into the living room where my brother sat on the floor in front of our brand new television set staring transfixed at the puppets being made to dance across the screen.  
>My mother was sat in the armchair in her dressing gown sipping at a steaming cup of tea.<p>

"Oh Edie dear," she exclaimed, gesturing at the clock, "You're up early!" I looked over at the face of the clock on the side, it read had just gone half past seven. This indeed was early for me; normally I wouldn't wake up until gone 10 at the weekends.  
>"Did you have fun last night?"<br>"Yes thanks," I said hoping she wouldn't ask any more questions. I did not want to go into the details of my love life with my mother.  
>"I like that McCartney boy," She announced, "Your father and I agreed that it's nice you've found such a good friend here so quickly."<br>"Hmm," I nodded and pretended to be interested in the TV. Now there was a puppet of a mule which was being made to gallop across the screen as a woman with the standard BBC accent narrated the story in the most twee voice imaginable. Still it was strangely mesmerising and from the floor my four year old brother started to clap at the pictures flickering across the screen.

"I'm going to make breakfast," my mother announced after a while, "Edie, do you want to help?"  
>"Yeah, sure,"<br>"Yes, of course," my mother corrected. She hated me using American versions of words.  
>I rolled my eyes but thankfully she didn't see.<br>"You can do the eggs, dear. We're going to scramble them today."

By nine o'clock, my mum, my brother and I were tucking into a breakfast of eggs, toast and grilled tomatoes.  
>A few minutes into the meal we were interrupted by the sound of somebody knocking outside. My mum put down her knife and fork and answered the door. From my seat at the kitchen table I couldn't see who it was (I assumed it would be the postman) but I could hear their conversation clearly.<br>"Hello Mrs Harling," a familiar voice greeted my mother, "Is Edie allowed to go out?"  
>"Yes but I'm afraid we're in the middle of breakfast right now but if you'd like to come in Paul?" she closed the door as he stepped through the threshold into the hallway, "You can watch the television set while you wait for her if you like?" she said before explaining to him how to work the machine. Paul put his head round the kitchen door. I gave him a what-the-hell-are-you-doing-here look and he grinned and winked in response before ushering him into the front room.<p>

Oh my god, I thought, Paul was sat in the front room and I had had no idea that he was going to show up here. Not to mention he had just seen me in my pyjamas and not even nice ones at that!

I ran upstairs and tried to get changed as quickly as possible. That wasn't exactly what happened. I ended up trying on about 8 different outfits before deciding on the first: a full, sky blue skirt with a fitted white blouse and a black sweater. I combed my hair out brushed my teeth and headed downstairs.  
>Paul was wearing jeans and a chequered shirt with a black leather jacket that looked as though it had been borrowed off somebody much taller than him. His hair was greased back into a perfect duck's arse (DA) and his eyes twinkled as he laughed at some banal joke on the television.<br>"Edie," Paul said when he saw me, "Let's get going eh?"  
>I nodded, "Ta for letting me watch your television set Mrs Harling!"<br>"Bye Mum!" I yelled back into the house before closing the door behind me.  
>"Where are we off to today then, Paulie?" I asked.<br>"I'm going to take you to see the new Elvis film," he replied.  
>"I've wanted to see that film since before it came out! Thank you!" I squealed like the fan-girl I was.<br>"I thought you would. We need to wait here Edie, we're going to catch the bus,"  
>"Thank god," I said, "After yesterday's magical mystery tour I'm pretty sure my feet might drop off if I walked much further!"<p>

"This is our stop," Paul announced when we finally reached the high street, "Come on!"  
>Paul hopped off the bus then held of his hand to help me down. "Mi lady," he said bowing as I jumped down onto the street. I pretended to swoon, to be honest I felt like my heart was melting from the inside out. "Oh Paulie you're such a gentleman!" I giggled.<br>"I try," he said, winking at me.  
>The bus driver gave us a disapproving look before the doors swung closed and he drove off down the street.<p>

The movie was amazing. Elvis was talented of course but that wasn't really what I noticed about the film. Elvis Presley was sexy. I went a bit crazy in the cinema swooning and screaming. Every so often Paul would look at me with a vaguely amused expression on his face. But I think he enjoyed the movie as well just not in the same way that I did! (I hope)!  
>After the final song, the credits started rolling and the lights came on inside the theatre. Paul stood up and ran his fingers through his hair, slicking it back. I smoothed my skirt before Paul took my left hand and practically pulled me through the crowds of excited Elvis fan-girls (I was one of them) out of the theatre, through the foyer and into the cold of the street.<br>"That was crazy!"  
>"Brilliant more like!" I said, louder than I thought I was going to be.<br>"The soundtrack was fantastic,"  
>"Elvis LOOKED fantastic!" I gushed, still on an excited high from the atmosphere in the movie theatre, "Paulie, I think I'm in love!"<br>"With me I hope?" He said it as if he was joking, but the look on his face told me he wasn't. Now I couldn't deal with my own emotions, let alone other peoples. Yes, I liked Paul, and almost definitely as more than a friend. But how much more I wasn't quite certain and I still held some of the views that 13 year old school girls have. Never tell the guy that you fancy that you fancy him. So I decided to make a joke of it, I couldn't answer him seriously. No matter how true my answer was.

"Of course! But Elvis will always be my number 1." I giggled but fixed my eyes on his with what I hoped was a knowing look.  
>"Thank you very much," he said wiggling his hips in a very poor impression of Elvis, "I practically am Elvis, babe!"<br>I burst into fits of laughter as we shuffled down the icy street attracting some very strange looks from passers by, who no doubt thought I was mad or high or both.  
>"Shh, Edie, luv," Paul whispered in my ear, "People are staring,"<br>I hiccuped slightly as I forced myself to swallow my giggles and attempt to bear a resemblance to a normal girl. The kind of girl that goes to see Elvis films with a cute guy and can act all sweet and coy and not lose it at a joke that was, at most, mediocre.  
>The kind of girl that I had never thought I would be.<p>

After mucking around in several different shops for a few a hours (and still managing not to buy anything) Paul and I entered the same small café we had eaten lunch in the day before.  
>Despite it having the same fogged windows and tiled floor and chipped paint on the walls it seemed like an entirely different place. Instead of the dismal, lonely atmosphere there had been yesterday the place was buzzing. Yesterday, the place had been almost empty, everyone had sat in separate corners from everyone else. Today the place was crammed full to bursting with teenagers. As well as this the place was filled, from the floor to the ceiling, with noise. Filled with the kind of sounds that, when meshed together, you don't hear with your ears so much as with your entire body. There were the sounds: of yelling and chatting and the swishing of skirts and giggling and someone slurping tea and excited whispering. Occasionally punctuated by an outburst of laughter from one or other corner of the room; or somebody clattering loudly in the kitchen. All of this was over the top of the backdrop of pure, raw rock and roll that filled every fibre of your being and made you want to dance and cry and fall in love, over and over again.<br>I was brought back to my senses by Paul pulling me by my arm up to the counter.  
>"What can I get ya?" asked the woman behind it.<br>"I'll have coca cola and a chip butty, please," said Paul.  
>"What about you, love?"<br>"Um, a coke as well," I peered at the menu chalked on the board behind her, "And a cheese toastie, thanks."  
>"5 shillings and sixpence, mi dears," she said and Paul slid the silver coins onto the counter, "Ta, love. It'll be with ya in a minute, take a seat."<br>We looked around and saw there were no empty tables. Luckily some of our friends from school were already there and they waved at us, beckoning us to join them. As we reached them they shuffled closer together on the red leather seat, making room for us.  
>"Where were you two yesterday?" a ginger haired girl called Prudence (Prue for short) interrogated us as soon as we were within earshot, "Missed you both at school."<br>"Didn't fancy going," Paul said plainly, squeezing my hand under the table.  
>"Reckoned as much," said George, "Thought it was highly suspect that both of you were off at he same time. 'Specially when you both turned up at practice last night,"<br>"It's not my fault, sir!" I said, mock pleading, as if the bushy eyebrowed kid sat opposite me was the headmaster, "I was lead astray!" There were a few giggles and titters from around the table as I attempted to be funny. George sighed in a see-what-I-have-to-live-with kind of way and Paul rolled his eyes and kissed me on the cheek.  
>"'bout time," said Jackie, a tallish girl with shortish hair and a loudish voice.<br>"What?" I asked, genuinely confused.  
>"You two," she said plainly, nodding towards me and Paul, "Together."<p>

I blinked at her blankly, were we together. I guess we must have been. It sure probably looked like it.

Thankfully I was saved from further conversation as a short woman in her mid thirties waddled up and gave Paul and I our plates of food. I thanked her and she waddled away.

As I was finishing my toastie John Lennon burst into the café causing a lot of fuss and noise. He went to the counter and placed his order before pulling up a chair to the end of our table.

"Alright lads," he shouted down the table.

There was a chorus of "Alright, Lennon," as he sat down and pulled a comb out of his pocket. Like Paul, John had greased his hair back into a teddy boy style DA. Unlike Paul, he kept checking himself out in every vaguely reflective surface (for example, the window) and combing it back at the sides.

A few seconds after John had joined us I realised he had not come alone. Hanging off his arm and his every word was a very pretty, blonde girl wearing an expensive looking dress. As I noticed her I felt a pang of (what?) jealousy. I convinced myself it was because she was so pretty or because her dress was so nice but I still had this nagging feeling right at the back of my mind.

I focused my attention back to the end of my sandwich but now I didn't fancy it. I took a slurp out of the bottle of coca cola in front of me, a bit louder than intended, managing to draw attention to myself.

"Aha, Edie," said John, in a way that made me think he had only just noticed that I was there, "You left your tights at my house last night, luv" he announced, winking.

There were a few sniggers from our friends around the table as they got the wrong end of the stick. I felt my face burn red and managed to stutter something about getting wet and so I put them on the radiator but that didn't exactly help either. John, on the other hand, looked completely unembarrassed and was wearing a smug smirk on his face.

The girl sat next to him however was unimpressed she started having a go at him in a very loud whisper that we could all hear clearly. She seemed convinced that John had shagged me and after a few minutes of him trying to convince her otherwise and her getting increasingly frustrated she stood up, looked down at him and screamed, "Fuck you, Lennon," before running out into the street. Everybody in the room was silent and for a few seconds after she left all you could hear was the sound of Roy Orbison crooning in the background.

"What are you all looking at?" John yelled and everybody suddenly began talking very frantically on fake topics of conversation. John lit up a cigarette and blew the smoke across the table, everyone around our table was looking at him expectantly. "What a bitch,"he said, "I never liked her to start with."

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><p><strong>AN: So wasn't that just the best chapter you've ever read? Probably not!<strong>

**I'm sorry for the fluffiness of this story, hopefully it should pick up soon. **

**Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter or added this to their alerts or favourites. I love you guys! You are my favourite people!**

**Now remember I am motivated my reviews so if I get up to 10 total reviews by monday I will try to update by wednesday. Oh, the empty promises of a fanfiction writer. I've got to say though guys, I must love you more than my youtube because I haven't uploaded anything ot that since october!**

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**DFTBA!**


	5. Chapter 5

**As promised, new chapter by Wednesday. Thank you for your lovely reviews. You are my favourite people! So here is the latest instalment of my litary masterpiece for your reading delectation:**

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><p><span>Chapter 5<span>

Sunday passed, as Sunday's are prone to do, without event. My parents, being religious themselves, decided to drag me to church with them. They had obviously decided that Liverpool had made me too rock and roll.  
>While I was sat in the cold draughty church I can't say that I thought very much about God. In fact I managed tune out the vicar and spent the duration of the service daydreaming. Daydreaming about Paul and how he was such a sweetie and how brilliant the Elvis film had been but next time I go to the movies with Paul I should probably try to scream less. And then I thought about the black dress I had seen in the window of a posh shop yesterday, the one with the layers of chiffon and crinoline, and how I wish that I got invited to the kind of parties where you were supposed to wear such a dress. And despite my best efforts not to, I thought a lot about John Lennon.<p>

Soon enough the service had ended and we went home. Then I had dinner, watched Sunday night at the palladium, played some records, read a magazine and went to bed.

On Monday morning I overslept. Instead of being woken by the ringing of the alarm clock I was woken by the ringing of the doorbell.  
><em>Shit<em>, I thought as I untangled myself from the layers of sheets and blankets on my bed, _that must be Paul, I'm so screwed!_  
>I got dressed in record time, threw some random books into my bag (hoping they would be the right ones), brushed my teeth, smudged on some lipstick and ran down the stairs, yawning and brushing my hair.<br>"Cutting it a bit fine this morning aren't ya, luv?  
>"Nope," I said, putting down my hairbrush on the stairs, "I'm bang on time. Bye Mum!"<br>We made our way down the same streets as usual, cracking stupid jokes about out friends and teachers. There was a lull in the conversation and a thought sprang to my mind.  
>"Paul, what exactly are we?"<br>"Friends,"  
>"Friends that snog each other?"<br>He paused for a few seconds, "I guess that makes you my girlfriend then," he said before adding, "That is, if you want to be?"  
>"Yes!" I giggled in way of reply before I grabbed his hand and started running down the street, "Come on, we're gonna be late!"<p>

Prue kept nudging me all the way through Chemistry. Asking questions about Paul and what she was now referring to as "Your Lost Friday".

"So are you together?"

"Yes, well, only officially as of this morning," I whispered back.

"Aw that's so cute! But what about John?"

"What about him?"

"Uh, don't think I didn't see you staring at him on Saturday, whenever you thought no-one was looking,"

"I don't know what you're talking about?" I did.

"You do," Prue said. For a girl that had been my friend for less than a month she definitely knew me well.

I blushed, "Well, it doesn't matter," I said, "I'm with Paul now,"

"But, John has a pair of your tights!" she joked, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.

"Not like that," I said, "Me and Paul got caught in the rain when we walked over on friday evening so I put them on the radiator,"

"Ok, I believe you. No need to be so defensive,"

"Well, fine. But if-"

I was interrupted by the strict Austrian chemistry teacher.

"Miss Harling, Miss Vebster," he yelled suddenly, making everyone in the room jump, "Vould you like to share vot you ver saying vith the rest of the class?"

"Um, no," said Prue calmly, "That's why we were whispering,"

"Out of my classroom, both of you go to Mr Hardgrave's office!"

"Thanks for letting us go, mister. I was bored out of my mind," I said before we exited the lab to hushed whispering. _I could get used to this rule-breaking malarky_, I thought.

"Fucking Germans," said Prue, as we walked (very slowly) in the direction of the headmaster's office, "Bet he's just bitter cos he lost the war,"

I scoffed, "Prue, he's Austrian,"

"Hitler was Austrian," she said, "That makes him worse,"

"Fair enough," I said as we sat down on the chairs outside the office with the ominous plaque that read "Headteacher". I looked at Prudence, "We're in deep shit aren't we?"

"I'm not," she said with a smirk on her face, "I didn't skive on Friday as well!"

And just as she said those last few words, Mr Hardgrave opened the door and looked down at us.

"You had both better start explaining. Now,"

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><p><strong>Dun-dun Duuuuun!<strong>

**Oh no what will happen next, stay tuned to find out. Sorry this chapter is so short.**

**For the record, I have nothing against Germans or Austrians (or people of any nationality for that matter) I was just representing what I believe to have been the views of the time (have you never heard your grandparents complain about Germans?).**

**In other news, I go back to school tomorrow. So I probably won't update so often, especially seems as I have science exams at the end of the month that I need to revise for. So I will be paying attention in chemistry (unless I get distracted by the boy that I sit next to who looks scarily similar to John Lennon, especially in the Woolton village fête pictures).**

**But I am more likely to update if you review! Remember the longer the reviews, the quicker the next chapter will be. Right, that's enough of my rambling. Just click that little review button, right now!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

Needless to say. We were in trouble.

After a good (bad?) half hour of being lectured about the rudeness of our actions and how Prue and I were on a slippery slope towards a life on the streets. Or words to that effect.

I soon got the impression that Mr Hardgrave didn't expect either of us to have meaningful jobs, he spent a large proportion of his speech asking us (rhetorically) "how do you ever expect to find a husband?"! Like he didn't expect girls to have any aspirations other than to find a nice man and get married.

Anyhow it transpired that we were to have detention after school on Friday. We were dismissed and Prue and I traipsed to our next lesson. English. The class was silent when we came in. I assumed the teacher had already been told where we had been send because instead of interrogating us when we slipped into the classroom, he simply looked up, frowned deeply and said, "Turn to page 394," and looked back at his desk.

We were reading Wuthering Heights. I thought about how weird Heathcliff is and how dull Linton is I'm glad that Paul is nothing like either of them. And Cathy is a bitch to both of them. God, I thought, I hope I never turn out like her.

"Edie!"

"Paul!"

We had met up at our usual table in the canteen for lunch.

"Ah, guys," said Prue, "Me and Edie got sent to Mr Hardgrave's in chemistry!" She then went on to proudly recount the entire story, embellishing it here and making everyone around our table snigger. "So now we have hours of tragic boredom awaiting us, on Friday evening," she concluded.

"As long as they don't make you read Wuthering Heights, eh Edie," said Jackie, "You looked as though you wanted to kill yourself in English just now!"

"I felt like it too," I said, a bit too seriously. Paul fixed me with a look somewhere between pathetic worry and disapproval. Mostly disapproval.

"So you're not walking home after school on Friday?" he said.

"No. I guess you'll have to walk by yourself, baby," I teased him and he shoved my arm lightly.

"Oh no!" he said, in mock horror, "How will I ever cope, walking that lonely 15 minutes all on my own?"

I giggled at him, something I seemed to be doing a lot lately, before he kissed me.

"Get a room!" yelled a small boy called Harry.

"Yeah," added George, "Some of us are trying to eat!"

Paul and I pulled apart blushing. Prue, who was sat on the other side of me, elbowed me in the ribs and gave me a funny look I couldn't quite decipher before I turned to George.

"Well, nobody's stopping you," I said.

By the time Friday afternoon rolled around I wasn't in the best of moods. I sat on the uncomfortable wooden chair and pretended as if I was concentrating very deeply on my essay entitled "What I did wrong and why I shouldn't do it again".

The previous evening my parents had found out about my "Lost Friday" from the week before. To say they were annoyed would be a bit of an understatement. And when they got it out of me that I had spent the day with Paul, my mother decided to blow it entirely out of proportion and march across the street to tell his dad (who wasn't all that bothered).

Also, I was grounded.

I turned back to my so called essay. So far I had written: the date, the title and my name. This was setting itself up to be the most boring couple of hours of my life. God knows, even Wuthering Heights was better than this.

I sighed loudly and started to write. Describing the errors of my ways and concluding with "I will try my best not to do it again or I will have to write another one of these essays."

I think it's fair to say the level of bullshit I had managed to write astonished me. That was A* level bullshit.

At half four Prue and some other people were allowed to leave. But having been guilty of more than one misdemeanour's, a few of us had to stay behind. I had another half an hour of torture left and so I returned to my daydreams.

I'm one of those people who daydream a lot of the time. My brain obviously doesn't like to be stuck in one place for too long.

I stared at the wall and went over the conversation I had had with Prue just yesterday. She was under the impression that I fancied John. And I kept telling her otherwise.

I do not have a crush on John Lennon.

I'm not sure whether I was trying to convince her or myself.

Finally the last of us were dismissed. I grabbed my bag and practically sprinted out of the room. Down the corridors and out through the front office nearly bowling over one of the women from the school's office as I went.

"Edie Harling?" the woman called me in a thick scouse accent. Damn, I hadn't been quick enough! I was probably about to earn myself another detention for running in corridors or something.

"What?" I said, almost rudely, turning around to see who it was that had stopped me. I recognised her face. It was Olivia, the secretary from my first day. "Oh, hello," I mumbled, slightly embarrassed that I'd been offhand with her.

"Are you in trouble already then?" she asked.

"Apparently so. Well, I wouldn't still be hanging around here otherwise," I said, gesturing at the empty corridor and grey walls as I said "here".

"Well, I guess we both better be getting home now then," she said before walking out the front door. I followed her.

She walked over to a shiny new mini cooper and unlocked the door. She offered me a lift but I refused, saying that I didn't live far and besides, I'd rather walk.  
>And I did prefer to walk. What with being grounded I liked to make the most of my time out of the house and school (which consisted entirely of walking to and from school). I decided to walk the long way.<p>

Despite it only being about 5 o'clock, it was dark out except for the occasional pools of yellowing light cast from the street lamps. As I walked I hummed Buddy Holly songs to myself and stared at my feet to try and distract myself from how cold it was.

Then for the second time that evening, I walked straight into someone. I mumbled an apology and tried to carry on walking but they grabbed by arm, laughing. I was frightened for a second before I looked up and saw that I had walked into none other that the guitar-wielding teddy-boy that was John Lennon. He was wearing Buddy Holly glasses and a cigarette hung from his lip.

"Edie," he laughed, I failed to see what he found so funny. I quickly checked to see that I didn't have my skirt tucked into my knickers or something equally mortifying. I didn't. "Been in detention, Edie. Missed you, Edie. You're so pretty, Edie," John let go of my arm and continued sniggering to himself.

"You making fun of me, Lennon?"

"Not you as such. I just had band practice at Paul's, he wouldn't shut up about you." he took a drag from his cigarette and blew the smoke into the street between us. Attempting, and failing, to blow smoke rings.

"Well," I said lost for words, this encounter was turning out to be slightly awkward.

"Paulie wants you, Edie," he interrupted.

I lied before. This meeting was definitely more than slightly awkward. I raised me eyebrows at John, but I don't think he saw because a) it was dark; and b) my hair was in front of my eyebrows; and c) he was looking in the wrong direction.

"Oh you're just jealous, John,"

"Bit up yourself, ain't ya?".

"I meant jealous of me having Paul, not the other way round," I retorted. This time was my turn to laugh.

"I ain't queer, if that's what you're trying to say," he snapped back angrily, throwing his cigarette on the floor and stamping it out with the heel of his shoe, "I'll prove it."

The next thing I knew his lips were on mine. One of his hands was tangled in my hair pushing my face towards his, the other was still holding his guitar case. For a moment I struggled against him.

_I do not want to cheat on Paul_, I thought, _I do not want to kiss John. I'm not that kind of girl._

But after a few seconds I found myself kissing him back, passionately and feverishly. I was vaguely aware of the sound of John's guitar dropping to the ground as his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me even closer to him.

After what could have been 5 seconds, 5 minutes or 5 hours we pulled away from each other, panting slightly. I looked up at John and the significance of what we had just done hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Shit!" I yelled, "What about, what have... Oh god, Paul?" I started mentally punching myself for letting myself be so stupid. I didn't know what type of girl I was anymore.  
>And do you know what John Lennon did? He just stood there. Smirking.<p>

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><p><strong>Oh my life! What have I written?<strong>

**Thank you for your reviews, I love you all.**

**But you know what would make me love you more? That's right! More reviews. The longer the better (that's what she said *wink*)!**

**Sorry, I'll stop trying to be funny now.**

**Bye, see you (hopefully) soon!**


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"Calm it, dear, it's only a snog," John smirked.

"Don't patronise me, John," I said.

"I reckon you enjoyed it anyway,"

"Bit up yourself, ain't ya," I said, quoting Johns own words back at him from a few minutes before.

"Get your own comebacks, Edie dearest,"

"Ugh," I exclaimed in disgust at his calling me dear twice, "If you want a girl to patronise you can go find someone else, Lennon,"

"Now who's being forward, I never said I wanted you to be my girl,"

"Neither did I,"

"Fine,"

"Fine,"

There was an awkward silence that hung in the air between us.

"You can't tell him," I said

"No we can't,"

"John, there is no we here. You kissed me remember,"

"I was provoked, anyway, you kissed me back,"

I was about to deny it but then decided against it.

"But seriously, we can't tell Paul,"

"Now look who's saying we,"

"John, I'm not in the mood,"

"Seemed like it a minute ago,"

"Shut up,"

"Fine,"

"Fine," there was a pause, "I'm going home, John. Do not..."

"Alright," he interrupted, "I get the idea,"

"Goodnight, John,"

"Night, Edie"

We both walked off in our opposite directions.

When I got home I was questioned by my mother about what took me so long. I told her the detention had overran. Which was a bare faced lie.

After dinner I stayed up for a few hours pretending to do my homework and waiting for everyone to be safely in the living room with the telly on and the door shut. Then I ran down the stairs and and picked up the receiver of the telephone. I listened to the dialling tone for a few seconds before spinning the dial round several times, putting in Prue's number.  
>She picked up on the third ring.<p>

"Hello?"

"Is this Prudence?"

"Yes, who are you?"

"It's Edie,"

"Oh hi, Edie, what do you want?"

"I need you to help me,"

"Oh my god what is it?"

"I k... John Lennon kissed me!"

"Shit, what are you going to do?"

"I don't know that's why I called you,"

I then proceeded to repeat the events of the evening to her from when I had left school to getting home.

"You should tell Paul,"

"I can't,"

"Why not?"

"Because it'll sound like I'm cheating on him,"

"But John kissed you, it wasn't your fault. Was it?"

There were a few seconds silence on the line. From the other room I could hear my parents chuckling at the television.

"Oh my god, you do fancy John,"

"No, I don't,"

"Yes you do, Edie,"

"So have you done the English homework?"

"Don't change the subject, Edie,"

"Was worth a try,"

"Answer my question,"

"You didn't technically ask one,"

"Shut up smarty pants, I'm asking it now. On a scale of one to ten how much do you fancy John Lennon?"

I paused. "One," I lied.

"Liar,"

"2 and a half," I lied again.

I could almost hear Prue fixing me with her trademark I-don't-believe-you glare.

"It's none of your business," said loudly before looking up to make sure my parents hadn't come into the room.

"Ok, eight. Thank you," she said, "You need to tell Paul,"

"No I don't, and I'm not going to,"

"Why did you ask for my advice if you're not going to listen to it?"

"I listened to it I'm just not following it,"

"Touché," she said, "But don't say I didn't warn you,"

"I'll try not to,"

By the time Monday had rolled around I was definitely welcoming the prospect of being allowed out of the house. Even if it was for school. Paul and I walked to school together but the whole time I felt painfully awkward and had this itching, guilty feeling. When we reached school I felt so relieved that I almost started skipping. Almost.

The rest of the week went on a lot like this. On Thursday Paul asked me to a party with him on Saturday night, I said yes because I would be ungrounded by then.

Saturday, couldn't have come quick enough. I was looking forward to it a lot. Prue had managed to persuade a boy in her geography class to come to the party with her.

On Saturday afternoon, Prue and I were in my room getting ready. I wore a new red dress that I had made myself during the week while I had not been allowed out. Prue's dress was blue and looked absolutely stunning on her.

We got ready with a Chuck Berry LP playing in the background, regularly pausing from fixing our hair to dance around the room like maniacs.

At half seven Paul and Prue's date Harry came to the door. Prue and I ran down the stairs as quickly as our high heeled shoes would allow (which wasn't very fast) and left the house in swirls of red and blue cotton and petticoats.

"You look lovely, Edie," said Paul who was looking like a proper ted wearing drapes and his DA. I thanked him and we started walking down the street.

"The party's at John's mate's house," he said, "Its not far from here,"

We walked hand in hand, joking and giggling for 10 minutes and it was almost like before. Before I'd met John and before he had kissed me. But not quite. I still had this nagging feeling that I was lying to Paul and to John and to Prue and to everyone else that would care to listen. I'd known all this earlier. What I hadn't realised was how much I was lying to myself.

I knew which house it was before Paul told me. The place was full of noise. The sounds of a Rock and Roll record I'd not heard before was playing loudly into the street.

We walked throughout the front gate and Paul knocked on the door. It was opened by a tall boy who looked to be about 18. He greeted us all vaguely and let us into the crowded front room. The first thin I noticed was the stench of alcohol that filled the room. Subconsciously I shuffled closer to Paul. He sensed my unease and put his arm around my waist and whispered something vague and sweet in my ear which reminded me that I was here to have a good time, not to be a kill joy.

Paul and I hung around in the front room for the first hour or so, alternating between dancing and chatting and drinking.

After a while I looked up from talking to Prue to see that Paul had vanished. I looked around the room to see him talking to John.

"Shit," I thought.

"What?" asked Prue. Apparently I had thought it out-loud.

"Paul is talking to John,"

"They are best friends," she glanced over at them, "Hey, who's that girl with John?"

I glanced over the other side of the room where John was stood and sure enough hanging off his arm and his every word was yet another girl. Where did I recognise her from?

I squinted, mentally damning my short-sightedness. Then it hit me. It was Olivia the girl from the office. She must have been the same age as John.

"What a bitch!" I said, louder than expected.

"Who the girl or John?"

"Both,"

At that moment John looked over at me, made eye contact, smirked mischievously and kissed Olivia. I felt a horrible stab of jealousy.

I then looked around to notice that Prue and Harry had now vanished to leave me stood alone clutching at a half empty brown bottle. I downed the rest of it in one and looked up to notice John Lennon stood in front of me wearing his insufferable smirk.

"How lady-like," he remarked, grinning.

"What are you doing here?"

"Nice to see you too!" he said,

"Seriously, why are you here?"

"It's my mates party remember? Actually I invited Paul. I hoped he'd bring you,"

"Per-lease, Lennon. You don't give a shit about me. What about that girl, Olivia?"

"You know her?"

"Yeah, she works at my school,"

"Nice fuck she was,"

"Prince bloody charming, ain't you?"

He gave his arms a flourish and bent into a low bow. I laughed at him, the beer making the situation seem funnier than it actually was.  
>John stood up to his full height and smiled a sarcastic smile.<p>

"Do you wanna go outside?"

I found myself being let away from the party, John pulled me by my hand to stop us getting separated in the crush of people.

Soon enough we were out of the front door and sat on the low brick wall outside. The cold of the February air was a welcome change from the heat of too many people inside. It had been dark for ages and tomorrow's frost had started to form on the pavement. John took out a packet of smokes and offered me one. I didn't smoke very often but I decided that today could be one of the times when I did.

I put the cigarette in my mouth and John lit it for me. We sat in silence for a good couple of minutes, until our cigarettes had burnt down to stumps when John abruptly threw his on the floor an crushed it under his heel.

"Why'd it have to be Paul?"

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Anyone else and I wouldn't have the slightest problem stealing you away. But he's my best mate,"

I threw my last bit of cigarette onto the floor and watched it burn out. "I guess it just happened, you know?"

"No I don't,"

"Well, that day when we skipped school, the day I first met you, he kissed me and I guess it kinda happened from there,"

"But you don't like him like that," John said, the tone of his voice somewhere between angry and desperate, "I see the way you look at him. I see the easy you look at me. Simple as."

John stared into my eyes and I saw his face draw nearer to mine. His breath smelt of beer and cigarette smoke, I guess mine smelt the same. I closed my eyes as our lips meshed and he wrapped his arms around my waist. Our kiss became more and more passionate. I threw my arms around his neck and laced my fingers into his hair. I tuned everything else out and focused entirely on kissing John.

Only after god knows how long did we finally pull away from each other. My head was spinning but I'm not sure whether that was because of the kiss or because of the beer.

"That proves it then," said John, "You want me, not lickle Paulie-Waulie,"

"He was your best mate a minute ago,"

"He is, I'm just better for you,"

"Yes," I said and leant my head on his shoulder. I couldn't see his face in the dark but I knew he was grinning to himself.

"Edie? Darlin'?" it was Paul. I suddenly sat bolt upright, snapped out of my daydream.

"Over here," I called out.

He walked over and sat on the wall between me and John.

"John?" he slurred, "What are you... doing... with my bird?"

"John offered me a smoke," I said trying to seem innocent. Paul was too plastered to notice how guilty I looked and he shrugged and leant backwards. He fell backwards off the wall into the twiggy shrubs behind it.

"Jesus, McCartney," laughed John, "How many have you had?"

"'m not drunk," Paul mumbled to himself, still lying in the bush, "Just tired... Not drunk..." he trailed off and snored loudly. I giggled.

"Lets go inside, eh?"

"What about Paul, he'll freeze to death out here,"

"He'll be awake in a minute," John said, "Besides you're not his mam..." He trailed off.

"Come on," he said. I pinched Paul awake and told him to come inside before running after John.

I danced with John to Elvis and Fats Domino and Chuck Berry and Carl Perkins. When a slower song came on John complained that it was "a shit one" and sat down in lumpy red armchair. I looked around for Paul and saw him in the kitchen boasting to a group of girls that yes, he was in a band and yes, they were the next big thing.

I kicked my shoes off and sat on the arm of the chair, wiggling my toes to the beat of the song. Half way through the song I list my balance on the arm of the chair and slid down onto Johns lap, engulfing both of us in the frothy white of my petticoat. I giggled nervously as he pulled me in and began to kiss me again. I pulled away.

"John people are looking!"

"Let them,"

"But Paul might..."

"Fine," he said, standing up abruptly and making me fall to the floor, "You just gonna lead him on forever then. We both know you like me best so why are ya still stringing us both along,"

"But it's only been tonight," I said indignantly, rising to my feet.

"No it damn well hasn't been, Edie and you know it,"

"Stop trying to make this my fault, Lennon!"

"It's you and you damn well know it Edie," he yelled, "I'll call you when you stop being such a whore!" He walked out if the silent room. Everyone stared at me before carrying on with whatever they had been doing.

I crumpled against the wall. Hugging my knees to my chest I let myself forget that I was in a room full of people and cried into the skirt of my dress.

After I'd been sat there for a few minutes I felt a hand touch me on the shoulder and lift me to my feet. Still not looking to see who it was I let them guide me out into the street. I looked to my left and saw the friendly face of Olivia.

"What happened?" she asked sympathetically.

"John. Lennon." I sniffed.

"John Lennon happens a lot," she said plainly, "Care to elaborate?"

"He... he called me whore,"

I carried on sniffing to myself as we walked on down the frost covered streets.

"He's a dick," she said, "He's always been a dick,"

"He said he shagged you?"

"No way," she laughed, "He couldn't have me if he tried. We're just friends, went to school together. He asked me if I would come with him tonight to make a girl jealous. I'm guessing that girl was you?"

"I guess so," I sniffed.

"I thought you were going out with that McCartney boy?"

"Yes, no, well I don't know,"

"I see, is this because of John?"

I nodded.

"He doesn't deserve you, doll. He's an idiot," Olivia said.

"Thought you were his friend?"

"I am, it doesn't stop him being a complete wanker though,"

I giggled faintly through my tears.

Olivia walked me home to Forthlin Road and I thanked her before vanishing into my house. Luckily my parents didn't seem to mind that it was five minutes past my curfew so I vanished straight up to my room before my parents could see the tear tracks down my face and smell the scent of beer and cigarettes that clung to me.

As soon as I got to my room I lay down on my bed and fell asleep in my clothes.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Oh my goodness! Did you see any of that coming? I know I did (but I did write it)...<strong>

**It only occurred to my while I was writing this that Olivia was George's wife. I called her Olivia because my grandma was a teenager in the 50s and her name was Olive. **

**So that's about it!**

**Please leave a review, I love reading them! **


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: So hey, remember me? Sorry about that. I don't even know how long it is since I last updated this. But here it is (for those of you who still care), the next chapter. **

**What will I inflict upon Edie this time? There's only one way to find out...**

* * *

><p><span>Chapter 8<span>

The next day I woke up at lunchtime. Lying face down on top of my covers with last night's red dress crumpled up around my waist. After lying there for a few minutes I became aware of how abjectly uncomfortable I was and wondered how on earth I'd managed to sleep 8 hours in this position.

I convinced myself to get out of bed and wondered if other people had to persuade themselves to do stuff. I was obviously insane.

As I stood up I felt dizzy and my head felt abnormally heavy. I'd obviously drunk much more than could be called sensible last night.

Last night.

I stared in the mirror and the whole thing came rushing back.  
>There were smudges of lipstick on my cheeks from when John and I had kissed, again and again. My hair was a mess from sitting outside in the cold wind and my dress smelled of cigarette smoke.<p>

I got changed out of my dress and threw it in the wicker wash basket, wincing as the sound of the lid slamming down reverberated inside my head.

I ran myself a hot bath, determined to scrub the drama off me. To wash last night's events out of my hair.

I've always read in the bath. And as I sat there in the slowly cooling water I caught up on Wuthering Heights, deciding that the dullness of the book would take my mind off all the crappy drama unfolding around me.  
>No such luck. I kept seeing myself as Cathy. Stringing two boys along to make life easy for myself. But I wasn't about to proclaim my undying love for either John or Paul and I wasn't about to marry one of them for money and status either.<p>

For the rest of that Sunday I spent my time alternately feeling sorry for myself, sleeping, and blaming my bad mood on both John and Paul.

* * *

><p>Monday started normally. My alarm clock rang at seven o'clock and I crawled out of bed and attempted to make myself look presentable. As usual I ate my breakfast and washed the dishes and tripped over the matchbox cars my brother had left littering the carpet. As usual Paul rang the doorbell and I answered it and shouted a goodbye to my mother before swinging my bag over my shoulder and leaving the house. As we opened the gate and stepped onto the street Paul leaned in for a kiss, I turned my face so it landed on my cheek.<p>

"You alright, love?" Paul asked, a slightly concerned expression crossing his face as he stared down into my eyes.

No, I thought, no I'm not alright. I feel confused and stupid and let down and guilty and like you deserve better but, "I'm fine," I said, forcing the corners of my mouth up into a pathetic attempt of a smile, "Just tired."  
>That at least was true. I felt as though I could sleep for at least a fortnight.<p>

* * *

><p>I arrived in first period chemistry early and sat at my desk waiting for Prue and trying desperately not to make eye contact with the teacher. I had to sit by myself for a good ten minutes because, as per usual, Prue was late. She scuttled in after the bell and made it half way to her seat before our teacher started yelling at her about the importance of punctuality and how in Austria students would never dare turn up late to a lesson. Prue was surprisingly quiet and actually apologised rather than back-chatting. I assumed she wanted to stay in the lesson and interrogate me about something. I was right. When she sat down she started scribbling something in her notebook before nudging me. I read it over her shoulder.<br>Why did you leave early on Saturday?

I wrote two words in response.

_John Lennon._

She looked at me incredulously and mouthed "Did you? Really?"

I shook my head, she had obviously got the wrong end of the stick. I started to scrawl a note in reply.

_He called me a whore._

_That prick! Why?_

_Said I was stringing him and Paul along._

_You kind of are though_, I scowled at her, _not a whore but you are stringing them along_, she added.

At this point I stopped writing back despite her constant nudging. I knew she was right, I was just in denial about that fact that I had to choose between John and Paul. I could try and pin the blame for this mess on either of them or a random passer by but in the end the only person I have to blame for this is myself. And I was the one who had to sort it out.

* * *

><p>At lunch we all sat at our usual table in the crowded canteen. I picked at my food, not feeling so much hungry as guilty. I had made up my mind, I had to tell Paul. What I was going to tell him I wasn't quite sure. After a few moments I decided on the truth and I wasn't sure how he was going to react. I was so wrapped up in my own thoughts I didn't notice that Paul was being stand-offish with me as well. I managed to choke down a reasonable portion of my lunch before looking up him and saying,<p>

"Paul, can I talk to you for a moment?"  
>He shrugged and got up from his seat and we walked in silence out to the corridor. When we reached a spot where there were few people he turned to me.<p>

"What did you want to say to me?" he asked in an accusing tone.

"Um, well... I..." this was proving more difficult to tell him than I thought it would.

"Yes?"

"Well you know that detention I had the other week?"

"Yes, what about it?"

"Well when I was walking home I saw John..."

"Lennon?"

"Yes Lennon. And we... well he kissed me,"

"You what?" the expression on his face looked wounded, "You're just telling me this now?"

"I'm sorry," I said unable to look him in the eye, "And then at the party; on saturday..."

"I know about what happened at the party, Edie. Believe it or not you two weren't the only ones there," he was shouting now, blinking back the tears welling in his eyes, "What do you expect to happen now, Edie? You going to call John? You expect him to treat you any differently than all those slutty girls he shags?"

"Well he said..." I started to say when a teacher walked down the corridor and we both went silent. When he was out of ear shot Paul started up again.

"He's my best mate, Edie," he said weakly, "Anyone else..."

"I'm sorry," I said, again unable to look him in the face. I had a distinct urge to hug him and tell him it was going to be alright. But I didn't, I walked away. To somewhere I could cry by myself.

* * *

><p>The bell rang to signal the end of lunch but I didn't move. I waited until the voices of the girls that had been stood smoking by the sinks had faded away before shuffling out of the cubicle. I stared at myself in the mirror; there were black make up smudges round my eyes. I pulled a crumpled tissue from my blazer pocket and made an attempt to clean the best of it away. I took my time, I didn't quite fancy going to maths and sitting awkwardly next to Paul. So instead I sat in the sink and thought through everything Paul had said and everything John had said and came to realise what a mess I'd got myself into. I'd lost track of how long I'd been sat there when a voice interrupted my thoughts of self pity.<p>

"You alright?" said the girl. I looked up to see Emma Briggs, the stuck up, popular girl who had been supposed to look after me on my first day here.

"I'm fine," I said, not wanting to confide in her.

"Whatever you say, bitch," Emma said off-handedly, "You got a smoke?"

"Yeah," I fumbled in my blazer pocket before pulling out a slightly squashed packet of cigarettes. We smoked them in silence for a few minutes before Emma stubbed out her cigarette on the greying enamel of the sink and turned to me.

"I take it you broke up with that McCartney boy then?"

"Hmm, I guess so,"

"He looked pretty torn up about it in maths just now,"

I didn't say anything in reply. I'd been thinking so much about how this all affected me and what I was going to do that I hadn't even given a thought to Paul's emotions.

"Well I'm going now. This conversation's a bit one sided," and with that she walked off through the door leaving me sat with my head in a cloud of smoke.

* * *

><p>That afternoon I walked home by myself for the first time since I'd moved up to liverpool. Paul was walking a few paces ahead of me and I had a great urge to run up to him and apologise. But I didn't. Instead I crossed the road and walked the long way home through the back streets.<p>

I'd been walking oblivious to my surroundings for a while when I noticed a familiar figure walking towards me. It was John. The street was narrow and short of turning round and looking like an idiot or jumping into someone's back garden I had no way to avoid him. I decided to stare at my feet as he walked past and hope he wouldn't notice me. No such luck.

"Edie?" he questioned. I carried on walking, "Edie, wait!" it turned around and glared at him.

"What?" I replied, exasperated.

"Are you ok, Edie? You look like shit,"

"Yeah, I'm fine thanks, Lennon. I broke up with my boyfriend who also happens to be my bestfriend and now he's not talking to me and I doubt he will for a long time,"

"Well it's hardly my fault,"

"Hardly your fault?" I was almost screaming out of frustration, "Who was it that snogged me in the first place, your cat? Your auntie?"

"I'm sure she..."

"And now," I yelled, "To top it all off you're here telling me I look like shit. Oh my god!" My loud shouting had caused a few people in the houses that backed onto the alley to peer through their net curtains, obviously expecting to see a good fight.

"Well, I'm sorry. I won't ask how you are in future." he replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Oh, go fuck yourself, John,"

"Tut tut, Language, Edie dear!"

"Don't you dear m-"

I found my words cut off by John kissing me. But they weren't the stolen kisses of lust and deceit that we had shared previously. He was gentle and after a few seconds he pulled away. I stood there, lost for words for what must have been a minute looking up at him with disbelief. Then my thoughts returned to me. My previous rage replaced by a sense of confusion and loss and guilt. I could feel tears welling up behind my eyes.

"I'm a horrible person," I sobbed.

"No, no you're not," said John as he wrapped his arm around me, "And believe me, I've met some horrible people,"

"I. Am." I sniffed loudly and wiped my eyes. My hands became black from the make up I had just rubbed into my face.

John shook his head as he looked down at me. "Lets take you home. You look like a panda now." And with that he started walking down the street with his arm around my waist, holding me up. He paused only to turn around and flick the "v"s at the women still stood watching out their windows.

Soon enough we reached my house, I went inside and ran up the stairs before my mother could get a look at how dishevelled I looked. I didn't feel like talking to anyone, I felt drained: emotionally and physically drained.

I collapsed on my bed. Crumpled.

* * *

><p><strong>So, what did you think?<strong>

**Please leave a review or something.**

**And feel free to check out my collab story that I'm writing with Vickytmandy.**


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Again, sorry for taking so long to update. But anyway if you want melodrama or exciting progressions in events then here it is. With out further ado, the ninth chapter of Close Your Eyes and I'll Kiss You:**

Chapter Nine

"Edie," my mother had called my name at least 8 times now and each time I had ignored her. I didn't want to talk to her about my problems and she probably didn't either; she probably just wanted to ask me what I wanted for dinner or something. "Edie," she called again, her high-pitched voice piercing my head. I heard her climb up the stairs. She shouted my name one final time as she opened my door. She pushed it harder than she'd meant to and there was a hollow bang as the door knob collided with the plaster of my bedroom wall. 

"What?" I said in response, exasperated. 

"Don't you take that tone with me young lady, I've been calling you for the last half hour, and you don't even have the common manners to answer me," 

I looked up at her from where I was lying on my bed and raised my eyebrows and shrugged. I pointed at the old copy of Vogue sat on the pillow in front of me, "I was reading," I replied as if that was a valid excuse for being rude. 

"Well, I was going to say that Paul is on the phone for you," she said irritatedly. 

"Tell him I'm out," 

"Don't be so rude, go and call him back," 

"Stop going on at me, mum! You don't understand," 

"I am your mother, don't talk to me like that!" she warned, "Your father and I didn't bring you up to be so rude. You've been so out of control since we came here. I blame that horrid rock and roll music, I read something about it in the paper," 

"Oh well then it must be true," I said, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I was on my feet now. 

"You listen to me, Edie Jane Harling, no good will come of being so rebellious," 

"Rebellious, really? What do you sound like? You're not a bloody psychologist, you don't know ought about me, mum. Absolutely nothing!" I pushed past her and stood on the landing. The clock downstairs chimed quarter to eight. 

"Mind your language, Edie. You don't know how lucky you are!" 

"Oh for fuck's sake," I emphasised the fuck to annoy my mother. 

"You're out with boys all the time and you always turn up stinking of beer. And don't think I haven't noticed that nasty smoking habit you've picked up," 

"Mum, it's not a big deal. You're just too old to understand," 

"No," she yelled in response, "You don't understand, you're too young and immature. You don't know squat about the world, you wouldn't last 5 minutes without me!" 

"Watch me!" I screamed and ran down the stairs and out the front door into the navy blue twilight. I didn't stop running until I reached the end of the street. It had been warm for March but as it got later the air was growing colder with every step I took. It didn't help that in my temper I had ran out the house in nothing but an old blouse, a pair of jeans and my blue school socks. I couldn't turn back though. To turn back would be to admit defeat. The pavement was still slightly damp from the rain we had had earlier in the day and it started to soak through my socks as I walked. I drifted round the side streets on autopilot not thinking about where I was going. I was going over everything in my head and it struck me that I might have overreacted. To everything, lately. I had been walking around for half an hour and the sky had changed from indigo wash denim to black treacle. I squinted around myself in the dark to see that I was on John's street. I guessed I could call by and talk to him. Maybe apologise for being such a bitch. Or maybe not, but it was a nice idea. I walked up the garden path and paused for a few moments before taking a deep breath and ringing the doorbell. I took a step back from the door which swung open almost immediately. A strict looking woman I remembered as being John's Auntie stood, backlit, in the doorway.

"Can I help you?" she asked.

"Um, hello. Is John in?"

"Yes, he's in his room," she replied before proceeding to yell over her shoulder, "John, there's a girl here for you," Mimi beckoned me into the house and I nodded to her. She looked at my feet, "Good lord, girl where are your shoes?"

"Er, I forgot them," I said, as if that was a reasonable excuse. She rolled her eyes at me but didn't peruse the matter further. Instead she let me in as John's face peered over the banister. He grinned when he saw me.

"Edie, hi!"

"Hey John,"

"Do you want to come upstairs?" he said, winking when his Auntie's back was turned. I followed him up and walked into his room. As I sat down on the edge of his bed he clicked the door shut.

"Leave the door open, John!" Mimi shouted up the stairs. John left it closed.  
>His box room looked the same as when I was last there. There were the same posters, the same clothes strewn about the place, the same records stacked in the corner. The same radio station was tuned in on the background. But it was different, it felt different. This time it was just me and him. I had let myself and him know that I fancied him and there was nothing in our way. John sat down on hi bed and I sat down next to him, tucking my feet up by my side. For a few moments neither of us said anything and just waited to see who would eb the first to break the silence.<p>

"So why'd you come over so late, anyway?" John asked, "Not that I'm complaining,"

"Well I kind of had an argument with my Mum. And ran away." I said before proceeding to repeat the entire evenings events to him. To his credit he just listened and nodded in the appropriate places. "I can't do anything right, can I?" I finally said when I finished the story.

"Nope," he said, not unkindly, "But it's mostly my fault. I mean, you could be marrying Paulie by now if it weren't for me,"

"I'm not sure I'd want to," I murmured into his shoulder, giggling feebly.

"Well when given a choice between him and me I'm not surprised you ended up here. What with my devilish good-looks and all," he flicked his hair like one of the guys in the movies, "But I'm a right royal fuck-up, you know that? I mess up everything,"

"I'm sure you don't," I said, moving my head off his shoulder so I could look him in the eye, "Besides, we can be royal fuck-ups together."

With that John leaned towards me and I felt the gentle pressure of his lips on mine. The kiss grew and I found myself lying back on the bed with John hovering over me. His hands reached out and started to unbutton my blouse. A voice in my head told me that this was an idiotic idea and I should stop him but the other, more dominant and much more stupid part of me silenced the whisper of reason. And well, it kind of just happened.

With Radio Luxembourg playing in the background, I lost my virginity to John Lennon. 


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: So I managed to update in less than a month. It's gotta be a record. Anyway, here is your chapter...**

Chapter 10

The next day I turned up at school in a shitty mood. This was probably due to the fact I had only had about 4 hours sleep.  
>At about 3 in the morning John had convinced me that I had to go home, that I couldn't go on arguing with my mother all the time. He gave me a great long speech on how terrible I would feel if something had happened and those were the last words I had said to her. It took him a good half hour to convince me to go home and make amends. Partly because I'm so bloody minded and partly because I was in a state of bliss, I had never felt so safe and protected from the world as I did when I was lying next to John. But eventually he managed to coax me out of the bed and he walked me all the way back home.<br>My mother was still up when I got back. She was sat in the front room in the dark, staring at the television set that displaying that grey fuzz that plays after the channels have closed down. I hadn't planned in this, i had expected her to be in bed and to be able to apologise in the morning. Instead i had to stand there and swallow my words. And I hated them, they tasted so sour and burned my throat on the way down.

By trying to avoid my mother I left the house early for school the next day. I didn't want to cause any more arguments with her. I especially didn't want her to find out about me and John. She was old-fashioned and highly Christian; I hated to think what she would have to say about it.  
>I walked incredibly slowly the whole way to school. The whole thing reminded me of how I'd shuffled my way there on that fateful first day. There had been a nervous knot in my stomach. Then I remembered Paul and instantly tried to forget about him again. I was with John now. I was pretty sure I loved him, and he loved me. I mean, we had had sex. I don't think I had thought about what that meant. But definitely meant something, right? As I got closer to the grey school gates I kept thinking and analysing and predicting things and a noticed that nervous knot returning once more.<p>

At school I met Prue in the girls toilets as i did every morning and she instantly started bombarding me with questions of what had happened about anything. I proceeded to tell her the whole story: from breaking up with Paul to the conversation with Emma to snogging John on the way home from school to the argument with my mother to the sex to the returning home. I tried to skirt over the second from last point like it was no big deal but my blushing and giggling probably gave it away before I'd even told her.

"Oh my fucking God!" she practically screamed, "You shagged John!"

"Shh," I said trying to calm her down. There was the sound of a toilet flushing and a second year girl with greasy pig tails walked out of a cubicle. We remained silent for a few minutes until she walked out the room. I carried on, "Anyway, don't say 'shagged', you make it sound dirty,"

"Well, I'm sure it was,"

"It wasn't," I replied a bit too defensively causing her to change her tone a bit.

Prue scoffed at me, "Whatever you say." she paused, "So, um, what was it like?"

"I don't know, really," I said, giggling because I didn't really want to describe it to her. It was private, you know? I noticed I was giggling a lot more recently.

Prue nodded knowingly, doing that thing where she pretends to be much more worldly than she actually is. Prue then changed the subject to herself and Harry and what on earth was she going to wear to their date on Thursday (I offered to lend her my red dress). This went on for a while before the bell rang and we made our way off to our first class.

-

By lunchtime, the rumours had spread like wild fire. Apparently the greasy girl had heard more than we had thought. It also turned out, that considering John had never been to this school, a surprising portion of the student body knew who he was. When I walked down the corridors I could see people turn around and whisper to their friends.

"That's her, the slut."

"She's the one who fucked Lennon."

"I heard she's shagged 8 different guys,"

I tried to walk past them and rise above it.  
>Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me. I chanted to myself. Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.<p>

I glanced up from my dinner. Sat at the other end of the long, grey dining table was Paul. Our eyes met for a few seconds before I focused back on my sandwiches. There was a look in his eye that told me he was upset. Upset seemed like and understatement, he looked dejected. That cut me more than all their words. I didn't know I even had that power. I mean, I was just plain boring old me, not exactly head-over-heels material.

I sat and picked at my sandwich for a while. I noticed that while all the girls were busy calling me every name under the sun the boys didn't really seem that bothered.

It was all so ridiculous. Everyone else seemed to sleep around and nobody gave a shit.

"You're a fucking whore, Edie," Emma jibed as she made her way past. For some reason her comment caught me off guard. I felt tears start to prickle the back of my eyes.

Sticks and stones may break my bones but...

It was no use, the person who came up with that was the biggest fucking idiot I've ever heard of. They didn't have a clue.

I felt hot tears start to flow down my cheeks and I blinked them back furiously. I had left that version of me behind. I was tough now, I didn't cry any more. Sticks and stones...

***

Afternoon school was hell. Nobody wanted to sit with me, it was as if they thought I was contagious or something. And then there were the notes that landed on my desk. Notes from anonymous boys asking me to suck their dicks or something equally crude.

The last bell of the day rang and I almost wept tears of joy and skipped out of the classroom. When I reached the school gates I saw John was stood right outside them, waiting for me. He was wearing blue jeans and a leather jacket, a cigarette hanging from his lip. He looked incredibly sexy. When he saw me he winked and tossed the cigarette on the floor, crushing it with the sole of his shoe. I walked towards him and he wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me in and kissing me.

"Slut!" called a passing girl I didn't know the name of. I felt me face redden and John looked down at me quizzically.

"Johnny, everyone knows," I said quietly. He didn't say anything in reply only kissed me again.

"Her," said another girl to her friend as they walked by, "She's the whore everyones being talking about."

"Shut up, you stupid bitch," yelled John at the girl, "Who the fuck are you to talk about my girl like that?"

The girl looked down coyly, looking as if she were about to cry. Unfortunately for John this girl was walking home with her boyfriend as well. And her boyfriend was on the Rugby team.

"You better shut up yourself, Lennon." The girl's boyfriend said, "Unless you want to be fucking crippled," he didn't smash his fists together but he may as well have done considering the threatening feeling that hung in the air around the group.

"Bring it on," snarled John as he started to shake off his jacket.

"John, stop!" I grabbed his arm in a vain attempt to prevent the fight. I knew already that John had a bit of a reputation for picking fights with people but to be honest I didn't fancy his chances against this guy. He had to be at least 6 ft 4 with wide shoulders and muscular arms. He was the kind of guy you could easily imagine in a boxing ring, even when he was dressed in school uniform.

Both the guys wriggled out of their jackets and threw then to the ground. I half expected to see a circle of people form around them and start chanting "fight, fight, fight!". Of course this didn't happen. A few punches were thrown until the big guy smacked John right off balance and he landed on the pavement in front of me. He spat at John, mumbled a few threatening words, then kissed his girl and walked away triumphantly. I helped John to his feet and handed him his jacket, which he put on without thanks.

"You didn't have to do that," I said to him.

"Yeah, I know," he wiped the trickle of blood from his nose on the back of his hand. I passed him my hankie. "I just wanted to protect you, you know?"

"But he's a bloody giant, John,"

"Hmm," he stared at the blazer the girl's boyfriend had left behind, "I'm gonna get that little shit back!"

He picked up the blazer off the ground and rifled through the pockets until he found what he was looking for.

"Aha," he shouted a bit loudly causing some first years that were walking past to jump.

"What's that?" I asked nodding at the piece of paper John was now clutching in his fist.

"Not entirely sure,"

"Why are you wooping then?"

"Cos it's got his name and address on it," he said matter of factly.

"And?"

"I'm gonna get him back,"

"Oh God," I laughed despairingly, "Please don't do anything stupid."

John, who now had another cigarette hanging from his lip and was in the process of lighting it, didn't answer. Instead he merely winked at me. 

**AN: So, um, yeah. Don't know how I feel about this chapter. So if you could review or something, that would be good! Also don't forget to check out my other story on here, it's a collab with VickyTMandy and also really awesome.**


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Would you believe that I've been super busy these past few months? Well you shouldn't.****  
><strong>**As it turns out I've actually just been super lazy and had I touch of writers block. I've rewritten this chapter so many times you won't even believe me. It's still kind of awful. But anyway assuming you haven't already lost interest in this story, here it is:**

Chapter 11

"Now you listen here bitch, you tell your little ted boyfriend that he better run and fucking well hide because if I get my hands on him I swear he won't live to tell the tale,"

"W-what?" I stammered, staring up at the meathead that had pinned me against the wall.

"Don't you play innocent you know damn well what I'm talking about,"

I shook my head rapidly, trying to think of a way to escape. The alleyway was completely deserted and there was no way I could out run him if he did let go of my wrists. I felt absolutely hopeless.

"Shit," I cursed under my breath, trying to compose myself, "Honestly I have no idea what you're on about. Can you get off me now?"

"What do you think I am, stupid?"

"Well... Kinda..." I saw his eyes flash with anger and I regretted saying it instantly.

"Well, you know what I think of you?" he hissed menacingly, not waiting for a response, "I think you're a filthy little whore who thinks they're better than everyone else just 'cause they ain't from round here."

He had drawn closer to me as he had said it. He grabbed my blazer and my body was pulled away from the brick wall behind me before I was slammed back into it. I felt slightly dazed, like my head had been filled with cotton wool when it had hit to wall.

"Get off me," I spat in his face. He groped my boob, "Get off me," I meant to sound threatening but my voice came out as a whimper. I was really getting scared. The meathead laughed at me, pulling on my blouse. I heard the pinging of a plastic button on the pavement. I screamed. Then I heard running footsteps and a thunk as something collided with the back of the his head. He looked bewildered for a second before turning around and punching his attacker in the stomach and running off.

Slowly I opened my eyes. Wide eyed and clutching my hockey stick was Paul.  
>"Are you alright?" he said apprehensively.<p>

I blinked rapidly, trying to clear the tears from my eyes, "Been better... Are you?"

He nodded solemnly, there was an awkward silence that seemed to last an age.

"Thanks," I said finally, "Seriously thank you, I don't know what he'd have d- oh my god," I burst into tears. Suddenly everything seemed push itself to the front if my mind and- "Oh my god," - it all seemed so helpless. My legs gave way under the violent sobs and I was sat on the ground, my back against the wall and my knees clutched against my chest. After a while I managed to calm myself down enough to stop sobbing and open my eyes. Paul was sat next to me on the pavement, his eyebrows raised into an expression of earnest concern.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly.

I inhaled, a long shuddering gasping breath between sobs. "I feel, I feel like everything's wrong, y'know?"

He kept his Hazel eyes fixed on mine. "Yeah, I know,"

"I mean my life all looks just fine and John's... Oh god, I mean, fuck... I can't do this to you, or me, y'know either of us,"  
>He looked at the ground, his hair flopping into his eyes.<p>

"Where did you get my hockey stick?"

"Your mam told me to give it to you, said you'd forgotten it. Lucky you did, I guess."

I nodded. I sniffed. "Why does nothing work out, Paul?"

"I've been asking myself the same question for the past 2 years and I still haven't a clue,"

"2 years?"

"Yeah, me mam died back then,"

"I'm sorry,"

"'s not your fault. But yeah it is pretty shit,"

I had no idea what to say, "Sorry,"

"Shh, it's okay, yeah most of the time I'm over it. It's just times like this that I miss her y'know? She just always knew exactly how to work it out," he blinked rapidly, obviously trying not to cry.

"It's alright, I guess. We can work it out, life goes on and all that."

"I know," Paul stood up and swung his bag onto his shoulder, "Anyway we should get to school,"

"Yeah, I guess so," I said, "But we don't have to..."

"Yes we do Edie, it's not the same."

"Hmm," I stared at the ground, "I'll see you later then,"

I wandered around the back-streets for a while. I felt completely lost and wasn't entirely sure how much of that feeling was due to my mental breakdown and how much of it was down to not having a clue where I was. Eventually I managed to find my self on a street I knew. I sat down on someone's wall to assess. My options. 1) I could wander around aimlessly all day; 2) I could go back to school; or 3) I could find John. I decided on option 3 and headed in the direction of his art college.

"Edie!?" John said as he walked out of the gates at lunchtime, "What are you doing here? Are you okay?"

"No actually," I stepped towards him. He looked at me with a puzzled expression on his face. "Did you by any chance pull a prank on that guy that beat you up last week?"

"Ha, well, he didn't beat me, and would you believe that I just happened to accidentally spray paint his beloved car pink in my sleep?"

"No... Hang on you did what?" I said, feeling my voice getting higher, "Would you believe that meathead pinned me against a wall this morning? Huh?"

"He did not,"

"No John, I ripped this button off of my shirt for the good of me health," I tried to cover my rising panic as I relived that morning with sarcasm but it didn't work.

"I'm going to kill him! That little shit, I'll fucking kill him!"

"John, Please don't do anything stupid,"

"I'm not stupid,"

"Didn't say you were,"

"Right, okay." he paused, "You wanna go somewhere?"

"Where did you have in mind?"

**AN: Yeah so there you are. If you have any requests please leave them in a review or PM me or something. Also I have a collab story with vickytmandy called "Things we said today". It's pretty awesome and she's pretty awesome too. And if this story gets up to 35 reviews by Sunday I promise to update by next Tuesday. Pinky swear. ****  
><strong>**DFTBA,****  
><strong>**Beth**


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